


Anti-Drug

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-19
Updated: 2008-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:54:08
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8697316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: He's standing a few feet in front of you, seemingly offended that you're having this conversation with him. Fights are stupid and you'd rather just kick back and have a beer, but then again this was going to happen sooner or later and you can't continue to postpone the inevitable.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is written in loving memory of Jeremiah. I'll miss you always. Rachel, I hope this is your last time. I can't do this again.

  
Author's notes: Rachel is my beta and she is MIA at the moment.  
Druge-use mentioned obviously. Nothing graphic though.

* * *

"I'll call you tomorrow," he says like that's good enough. "You're pissed off, and you're taking it out on me," he continues, his voice wavering only slightly; like he's trying to convince himself.

 

"You're not going to call me." You fucking know he's not going to call you.

 

"Why the hell wouldn't I? I always do," he takes a momentary break from looking for his keys to make some gesture that means 'What the fuck are you talking about?' You just stand there and watch him, knowing his keys are in the corner of the counter in the kitchen, but you don't tell him that. You guys are in the living room, the kitchen is up a single step up, adjacent to where you are.

 

"Plenty of reasons," you exclaim loudly. Neither of you have been able to look each other in the eye for hours. You knew that it would come to this, but tried to prolong it for as long as you could. You were hopeful, and now you're just disappointed. "You might be too tired, you might have passed out, you might still be fucking high, or you know what? You could even be dead!"

 

His laughter cuts in to the air, manically and you think that you should maybe just shut up. Just bite your tongue and let him leave. You could call it a night and hit the hay early... yeah right. Like you could sleep knowing he was out there doing that stuff.

 

"I'm not gonna die!" he laughs shaking his head. Next thing you know he's shoving your shoulder and pushing you back a couple of steps. "Look at me, I'm not going to die."

 

"Don't fucking touch me." You push him back, meeting his eyes for the first time in a long time. All you see is annoyance and that pisses you off even more. "You don't know that. You think half the people that overdosed out there fucking meant to!"

 

"So? I'll be with Chad, it's fucking safe Jen."

 

You're still holding his gaze, fuming on the inside. "Jared just-"

 

"If you're so worried then come with m-"

 

"You won't let me!" you cut him off just as easy as he did to you. You hate being angry, especially with Jared. Fights are stupid and you'd rather just kick back and have a beer, but then again this was going to happen sooner or later and you can't continue to postpone the inevitable.

 

"That's because all you'll fucking do is guilt me!" Jared isn't looking for his keys anymore. He's standing a few feet in front of you, seemingly offended that you're having this conversation with him.

 

"I guilt you?" you question like you're saying 'yeah right.'

 

"Fuck yeah, you do. Every two seconds, 'Oh my god, I want some so bad, you can't let me though. Jared, don't let me. I want to _so bad!_ '" he mocks you.

 

If looks could kill, there would be one big ass fucking bullet hole right through his forehead.

 

"That was once, I was stoned and you know I can't fucking help that!" you yell. "I can't believe you're fucking holding _that_ against me," you say quieter more as an after thought to yourself.

 

"Damn right I do," he says jerkily taking a seat on your couch. You sit on the edge of the arm chair, back straight shaking with fury. "Where the fuck are my keys?" he yells.

 

"I don't know," you lie. "Just- I don't care if you go. Just don't touch the coke pl-"

 

"Shut up Jen, you have know room to speak..."

 

"Weed doesn't count."

 

"I'm not talking about weed."

 

You take a very deep breath then lick your lips and just try to keep breathing as if that's going to make things easier. You swallow next and swallow again. It takes a couple of tries to make that lump go away.

 

"You have no clue about any of that," you say threateningly, honestly wishing that you just let this whole thing go for a little bit longer. This is the last thing you wanted to talk about.

 

"I don't have a clue?" Jared sits up and you meet his eyes because that 'let me prove to you' tone he just put on always gets your attention. The tone he uses when Sam is trying to stop Dean from doing something stupid. "I was the one that had to keep you sane on sets. I was the one making up excuses when your acting wasn't up to par. I was the one who had to call into set at least 3 times a week and letting them know you weren't going to make it on time. Just because it hasn't happened in what? A month? You think I've forgotten. You think that it doesn't matter." He stands up abruptly, running his fingers through his hair, or possibly pulling it. He groans out, getting back on his feet and looking around exasperated. "Where the fuck are my keys?" he bellows.

 

You can't hold it in anymore. He knows nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. You don't know exactly when you decided to stand up and grab his shoulders, but there you are, five seconds later, shoving him up against the wall breathing heavily on his face.

 

"I stopped Jared," you accent every letter in his name. "I quit all that shit." You're pretty sure that when you say 'shit,' spit might have landed on his face. It doesn't matter though. You don't really care at this point. "Do you know why I quit?"

 

Jared's looking down. His eyes are barely open, you figure he's looking at your white knuckles grasping his shirt. He knows he hit the wrong nerve.

 

"Whatever Jen, I'm sorry," he speaks slowly and quiet. Scared. But fuck him. You pull him forward, then shove him back. You hear his head hit the wall hard and he meets your glare for a second. You let him go at that point. You turn so your back is to him and take a few steps. You hear him move, but he stays behind you. He stays where he is.

 

"You remember that guy I used to talk about all the time?" You turn back around. He's watching you intently, only shaking his head to answer your question. Like he doesn't trust his voice right now. For a moment you wonder if you hurt him.

 

"His name was Jeremiah."

 

You watch him, waiting for it to click in his head. Once it does, he nods.

 

"That was my ex boyfriend, Jared. The only guy I've ever been with. I met him when I was 17, he was 19 and just- he showed me everything. I was this closed-minded Texas boy trying to make it in the big fucking city. He made me who I am. As soon as he laid eyes on me, it was like he showed me a whole new world. He was the first person I met outside of Texas and-" You break off, shaking your head. "I couldn't help myself." A shrug. "I think he's the only person I really ever fell in love with." The noise that leaves you as you finish this thought is that horrible breathy-laugh thing. It's makes Jared frown.

 

You start biting your lip because you can't stop now. You know it, Jared knows it. He's keeping quiet and you kinda want him to find his keys and leave so you don't have to admit all these things you've been denying.

 

"He's the reason I started using. And when we broke up, yeah it was my choice to keep on using, but that shit is fucking addictive."

 

Jared opens his mouth to speak. 

You raise a hand and silence him.

 

"Yeah, sure I was mixing shit with heroine, but that's not the point."

 

Jared's head tilts to the side. He squints. You close your eyes convincing yourself to keep talking. To finally verbalize and finish this. This is more than just the argument at hand. This is like everything between you and Jared. The only thing separating you and you don't even realize that yet.

 

"He's come to visit me once every other month since I started working in Vancouver. I'd never question how he got the money, he never took me up on my offer to pay for it. Four months ago, he didn't come. Not even a pay-phone message on my cell. Nothing... I went down to the city three months ago and do you know what I found?" 

 

It's a rhetorical question but Jared asks "What?" anyway, his voice low and weak. You're pretty sure it didn't even register in his mind he just spoke.

 

"An urn in his brother's basement."

 

You think you should be crying. Whenever you think about it you cry, so talking about it should tear you up. You look over to the mantle above your fire place and sitting on the center of the dark wood you see it. You examine it from far away before you take the six steps over there and place a delicate hand on the dull metal. It's cold under your finger tips and you close your eyes giving up the fight for composure. His brother was a douche-bag, keeping his brothers ashes next to his crack-pipe and favorite bong. When you asked for Jere's ashes he laughed in your face then asked if you were serious. It didn't take long for him to figure out that you were. He eyed you in your state of swallowing back tears. "50 bucks, they're yours," he shrugged. You would have done anything for those ashes. You remember thinking that Jeremiah was worth more than that. He was fucking priceless. He deserved to be respected, not remembered because by his drug use by his prick of a brother. Remembered because of his personality. His small smiles and bright blue eyes. His wayward hair that you'd run your fingers through as you kissed him breathless. You didn't even get to say good-bye. You didn't even fucking _know._

 

You scream. You scream and your hands moves to the left of the urn then before you can stop yourself all the pictures of your family, friends, Jared- they're all crashing to the ground. Jared flinches behind you, but you don't know that. You're too busy crying out because god, why did he have to get stolen from you? What did he do to deserve death? You loved him more than anything in this goddamn world and you've been kidding yourself by pretending everything is alright. It's not alright and you have to deal with it. You can't ignore this anymore. You've been letting it build up, letting out a few reminiscent tears, but now the rage is coming out. With or without your control on the matter.

 

You turn around suddenly and Jared, who may or may not have been inching towards you jumps in surprise. He looks you in the eye, concerned.

 

"You know what killed him?" You take a step forward. Jared takes a step back. You're even scaring yourself; voice filled with rage. You keep advancing on him until you have him up against the wall for the second time tonight. Jared breaks the eye contact, knowingly. He seems to have a problem being so close to you when you're red faced with anger and there's tears on your cheeks.

 

"He ODed Jared." Your face is inches from his. You speak through gritted teeth. "He accidently ODed on coke." Pause. "So don't tell me that you're with Chad and he knows what he's doing, because Jere had been using since he was 13 years old... and it killed him." 

 

You're easily crying now and suddenly feeling tired. The grip you have on Jared loosens. But you can't move. Your legs are worn, your arms- lifeless. Your head dips down to rest on Jared's right shoulder and a wave of heavy tears overcome you. You try to weep quietly, just sharp intakes of breath every other second giving you away. You don't jump when you feel a giant hand on your back or when Jared wraps both his arms around you and he holds you to his body. If anything you fall apart even more, feeling safer now than you have in months. There's nothing like being held in a man's warm embrace, though you wonder if maybe it has anything to do with this being Jared and not another one of your friends.

 

"I can't-" You sound drunk, whimpering pathetically. "I just." You take a shaky breath and even though you hear a gentle "Shhh," come from Jared, you have to continue. "I think I'd die if you got taken away from me too."

 

Jared squeezes his eyes shut, fighting tears of his own. You lift your head up and watch him for a moment through your blurry eyes before you move to rest your forehead on his chin. You close your eyes and just feel him all around you, panning out the differences between him and Jeremiah. Jared's taller- which is no surprise. Jeremiah was skinnier, not as muscular either. They're like exact opposites and you think that's why it's okay. Why you can actually allow yourself to be so close, because there's nothing about Jared physically that reminds you of _him_. In fact, drugs are the only link you can put between the two of them.

 

"And I know that this is my problem, and I shouldn't make it yours, but I can't let you do it. I just can't," you ramble on shaking your head and at first you think you imagine it, until it happens again. Jared's pecking your forehead, rubbing slow and careful circles on your back. Everything about you relaxes.

 

You move your head into the crook of his neck and finally, your arms do something. From under his arm pits you get hold of his upper back and shoulders and just hold on to him because he's the only thing keeping you up at this point. You feel so close to him. Well, you always have. But right now it's just amplified to the tenth degree and you wonder if it's always been like that, but you've just been too preoccupied concentrating on the Jeremiah to notice how amazing Jared is. How good he's always been to you... and what do you do? You shun him away whenever you get emotional? You ignored his phone calls whenever Jere was around. Would he ever do that to you? Come to think of it, this is probably the most serious conversation you've ever had with Jared. Sadly it had to be a fucking screaming match about... Jeremiah.

 

You back away from him now. He doesn't fight you, though he does follow your body with his hand, touching you until the span of his arms can't reach you anymore. You sniff and meet his eyes. Unsure as silent tears run down your face.

 

"Jen." You notice the tears pooling right under his eyes. He shakes his head so his hair is out of his face and you shut down. Recoil back into yourself. You feel raw and exposed and it's just too much.

 

"No." You start walking backwards. You walk until the back of your legs meet the couch and you practically collapse on the cushions holding you head in your hands, leaned over so your elbows rest on your legs.

 

"Jensen," Jared tries again.

 

You shake your head. Palms pressed to your closed eyes, nails digging into your head.

 

You hate this. You hate how just thinking of Jere can fuck you up so much. You hate how the thought of his name and the fact that he's dead always hurts just as much as it did when you first found out. You can't even recall your last words to him...

 

"Leave Jared..." You mean to say it like a warning, but it comes out more like your begging. Your voice cracks pitifully and you start sobbing again. You just want to be alone. You want to curl up in a ball and concentrate on getting Jere's stupid face out of your head. You'd rather pretend this never happened...

 

The couch dips next to you and then strong arms are pulling you to your right. "C'mere," Jared whispers tenderly. You don't want to go with it, but you're way to lazy to stop him... and he's warm and kind of smells nice so you allow him to hold you sideways while you cry. You let him gently rub your left arm and whisper nonsense to your hair. His fingers are soft against your skin, no calluses or broken nails to irritate you.

 

"Just don't touch coke... or anything really." You beg him between gasps for breath. You feel kind of light-headed from the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. You need to calm down.

 

"Breathe Jen, come on. Just breathe," Jared coos into your ear and you feel his nose press into top of our head. He kisses your temple.

 

"You have to promise me," you beg. You lift your head up and look at him with your red, aching eyes. The words sound childish, but Jared understands the seriousness. How desperate you are to hear him say it...

 

Instead of answering you, he puts a hand on your cheek. His thumb caresses that place where the side of your nose meets your face. Your eyes go wide, searching his... You're fearful, but you don't move. You let him touch you because you trust him. In fact, he knows pretty much everything about you... you better trust him.

 

When Jared kisses you it doesn't register at first. Well, you feel his lips against yours, but for the first few seconds, you're motionless. Your eyes closed. Dead. Then the realness of the moment hits you. And after all of that yelling, and all the pain, Jared is fucking kissing you... and though your face is covered in tears and your mind is foggy with emotion, you kiss him back. You let your lips move against his and your jaw drop open and feel the gentle swipe of his tongue against yours. The kiss is almost awkward because of the angles, but you guys make it work. After a minute or so, you pull back... but your eyes stay closed. You're waiting... and waiting...

 

And for what feels like an eternity you keep your eyes closed and wait. Wait for him to-

 

"I promise, Jen. Trust me, I fucking promise you..." His voice breaks and your eyes open to see a tear run down his cheek. You think about how fucking pathetic the two of you must look, sitting on your plush off-white couch, crying your eyes out. But Jared doesn't seem to mind, and honestly, you could care less about how you look right now. You rest your forehead against Jared's and look right at him. Right through him even...

 

"I do love you, Jensen..."

 

He has you caught off guard, but God do you want to love him. And you think you will... one day. But right now- If you say it you'd be lying and Jared doesn't deserve that. Right?

 

"I..." You stutter, pulling away. Jared surprises you by half smiling.

 

"Hey, I don't expect you answer... I understand," he says and you believe him.

 

"I will though... just. Not yet," you tell him honestly and then you smile. It's foreign, yet strangely comfortable setting on your lips. You're not really crying anymore, but your cheeks are soaked, eyes still puffy.

 

Jared tilts his head and kisses you again; sucking on your bottom lip, nibbling on it, before letting it go. You smile into the kiss and kiss him back.

 

This is so weird, but you definitely like it. So you two sit on your couch for the next ten to thirty minutes, just staying close to each other and boy does it feel amazing. That thought keeps repeating itself in your head, it's as if with each kiss you like Jared that much more and you figure you'll never forget about Jeremiah, but you really have to let him go. Or else you'll never move on.

 

Then you and Jared start talking. When he asks you about Jeremiah, you doubt you'll ever shut up and Jared smiles and laughs and holds your hand whenever you start getting a bit emotional. He's a great listener and you thank him more than enough time for being here, staying with you, putting up with you. After a little while, things go silent, Jared gets mildly restless.

 

"So you mind if I call Chad and tell him I'm not gonna meet up with him?" Jared scrunches up his face unsure. You shrug and push yourself up off the couch. You stretch then walk over to the mess you made on the floor earlier.

 

"How about you call Chad up and get us some damn weed. I could so use a good toke right now," you yawn. "Ugh, I gotta clean this up," you then whine to the mess in front of you.

 

"I'll help you with that, but if you want weed, we gotta take your car to pick it up because I think I lost my-"

 

"You're keys on the kitchen counter... in the corner," you cut him off, smirking with the kept information.

 

Jared suddenly laughs and shakes his head and you laugh as well while picking up a couple of pictures with frames that haven't broken. "You knew the whole time," he states rather than asks.

 

"Yup," you reply.

 

Jared continues to shake his head while he picks his cell phone out of his pocket. You listen to his side of the conversation while he chats to Chad. Not in a 'I think he's going to betray me' way, but in a 'You're the only thing to listen to besides my heart beat,' kind of way. Innocently.

 

"No, I'm not going to do it ever again... Does it matter why? Fine, it's Jensen. Fine whatever, yes, he's my anti-drug."

 

So that night you get stoned with Jared and giggle about stupid shit, sharing chaste kisses at first, then making our lazily for as long as you guys want to. When you pass out it's in the wee hours of the morning and you barely remember a fucking thing when you wake up at least twelve hours later. You're in bed with Jared, surrounded my a mountain of blankets. Jared is watching you, running his thumb over that spot on your face again. You vaguely remember him mentioning a little clump of freckles being there last night. As you open your eyes you smile at him... and at the sun and the moon and all the trees and just anything that you could possibly smile at. Not because you're happy though, and not because of Jared exactly. More of because you're relieved. Because you finally feel like you have nothing to worry about and everything is going to be okay.

 

Everything is going to be okay.


End file.
